


Exploration

by artoni



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Other, Sticky, Sticky Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artoni/pseuds/artoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tailgate and Cyclonus go exploring, find a plant, and have mixed experiences. They share one, too, so that's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in three parts on Tumblr. Thanks to Caiusmajor for stoking the muse through the second two.
> 
> Originally inspired by [this here art](http://freezy-hound.tumblr.com/post/32279435995/for-my-hunnybuns-enzy-i-really-enjoyed), ended up taking a life on its own.
> 
> Unsure whether or not it's dubcon/noncon in the beginning; borderline, please be warned if it's Not Your Thing.

Tailgate hadn't minded being one of those who were scouting the latest planet the Lost Light had ~~crash~~ landed on, and he certainly hadn't minded being paired with Cyclonus - he'd hoped that the two of them would get some time to talk, and that, Cyclonus, would, you know. _Talk._ It'd ended up with Tailgate doing enough for both of them, trying to fill the empty silence, but about ten minutes ago he'd simply lost track of the flier in all the vegetation that was overhead and, in his haste to try and get back together with his partner, stumbled in to what had seemed at the time like only a mass of vines.

Until they'd started _wriggling_ , and Tailgate realized he'd found some of the native wildlife. Babbling apologies, he'd tried to free himself, only to found himself quickly entangled and the tendrils probing at him as if trying to understand what he was. Not wanting to hurt it, Tailgate's struggles had slowed, a bit...

...right up to the point where it had started rubbing between his legs. _That_ had prompted a surprised yelp that he _hoped_ Cyclonus would hear, but didn't dissuade the tendril at all - it'd simply wrapped a 'vine' around each of his legs, spreading him open as it continued to massage the panel.

Tailgate couldn't for the life of him figure out _why_ it was so interested in his anatomy, and to his chagrin, he'd found his panel heating up at the attention. It had been so _long_ since anyone had touched him down _there_ \- aside from, well. A 'bot got lonely once in a while, and was allowed to pay some attention to his own anatomy, wasn't he?

Whatever had snared him seemed to have at least a similar idea, with the way it was stroking his chassis even while focusing on the growing warmth. Tailgate whimpered in embarrassment, faceplate heating up as he squirmed, trying to get free.

"I don't think-" _shnk_. Was that his panel? He hadn't sent the command to open it, why did it- " _Ooh_ , this isn't-"

This _was_ something, maybe the width of two fingers, entering his valve and exploring it intently. Tailgate moaned before he could think about it, and when the something left, he could only look down just in time to catch sight of something bigger entering him. This one stretched the valve's entry to discomfort, and his legs trembled as he tried to work up the vocalization to tell it to stop, but suddenly it was inside and pressing at the nodes and feeling _oh_ so- so-

" _Haaahn!_ "

It pulled out only to move back in, mimicking the pumping of a spike, but no spike could move like _that_. Could curl like fingers could while stretching him like _that_ , the discomfort was barely there, now, just friction and sensitivity. Tailgate couldn't _help_ but squirm, now, utterly mortified at the fact that he was being 'faced like this, but he couldn't _move_ nearly enough to free himself. And after a moment he just reached back, taking hold of one with each hand, whimpering helplessly as the lazy thrusting continued.

He felt something brush the side of his helm, and if he dimmed his visual sensors, he could maybe pretend it was someone's hand stroking his faceplate. Maybe even _Cyclonus_ -

* * *

Cyclonus hadn't minded being a scout; he was used to it. It was something he knew how to do, and it was something he knew he _could_ do. Partnering with Tailgate, on the other hand...

The mech had proved himself to be all but incompetant. There were very good reasons why he avoided him, and that was just one of them. And when he'd realized that he'd gotten separated (if only by lack of droning)...to be honest, Cyclonus had only sighed, and winged off to complete the route.

It wasn't as though they'd found any hostiles on the planet. The chances of him offlining were...perhaps not _minimal_ , but what could he do? Fall in to a hole? It wasn't as though he hadn't done that before and _survived_. Surely he'd be fine by himself for an hour or two.

An hour or two later, he'd lowered his altitude, trying to actually _find_ the lost mech. As much as he disliked Tailgate's presence, it wasn't as though returning to the ship without him would earn him any friends. (As much as he didn't care for the friendship of the others on the ship, but.) 

And then he heard it. At first, he didn't believe his audial sensors, but a second pass confirmed that there were _sounds_ coming from under some of the foliage, and they sounded...distressed.

Maybe there _were_ hostiles. Scowling, Cyclonus transformed, claws splayed as he fell through and landed in a crouch.

Then he saw it.

Tailgate had gotten himself wrapped up in - something green and with a _lot_ of appendages, tentacles for lack of a better word. They were entwined on, around, _in_ him, and he was crying out weakly as a pair of them went in and out of his-

Cyclonus _blinked_ , utterly taken aback by the sight of Tailgate being 'faced in to the muddy ground by whatever the slag it was. Tailgate's vocalizer was a mixture of static and soft cries, as if this had been going on for hours, and by how much _fluid_ seemed to be present, Cyclonus realized that maybe this _had_ been. The unmistakable scent of burning circuits lingered in the air - an obvious sign of an overload. It was _thick_ , too, further lending credit to the idea that Tailgate had been molested for some time.

Something touched his pede. Cyclonus acted before thinking, swiping down with his hand, and felt a trace of satisfaction as his claws cut through a length that had tried to curl around his ankle. The entire tendril seemed to shudder, a motion that carried all the way back toward Tailgate, who emitted another burst of static as he trembled in the _thing's_ grasp. Another whiff of burning circuits hit Cyclonus' olfactory sensors, and he grimaced just before Tailgate's whimpering took on a bit of coherency-

"C-cyclonus...!"

...touching. His 'partner' expected a rescue. Still, Cyclonus couldn't just - _leave_ him like this, and shooting the things off would be out of the question. With a mental sigh, and pointedly ignoring the stirring in his own unit, Cyclonus moved forwards, slicing his way through the writhing mass. A few of the tendrils swatted forwards, clearly trying to fight _back_ , but they weren't prepared for someone who could _actually handle himself in a fight_. It was a short 'battle', if it could even be described as such, with the creature quickly realizing it was outmatched and struggling to free itself from Tailgate.

Cyclonus didn't take its retreat as such until it had fully extracted itself, and was pulling itself back in to a pile. Even then, he didn't trust it - a few final swipes and a stabbing punch, right in to the heart of the mass, had it emit a last set of twitching before going limp and still.

There. Now he'd just need to clean the - blood? sap? - off himself when he got back. Nodding in satisfaction, Cyclonus turned to Tailgate, who was an utter _wreck_. Twitching on the ground, arms holding himself, still whimpering desperately...Cyclonus sighed, realizing he'd either have to carry him back, or get someone else to help him. And while he may not have considered Tailgate a _friend_...

...even Cyclonus knew when enough was enough. He reached down to pick up the minibot and sling him over a shoulder, but paused as soon as he touched him.

Tailgate was watching him, visor dim but still online, and there was a distinctly _pleading_ tone to his voice.

"Cyclonus, please, I n-need-"

At first, Cyclonus didn't understand, but when Tailgate twitched his hips and erect spike towards him-

Oh.

_Oh._

"Please, _please_ , I can't- there's too much, I need-"

Realization that Tailgate might not have been totally _against_ what had happened warred with the fact that he had apparently been wanting Cyclonus for more than one thing warred with the fact that now Tailgate had reached forwards enough to put a hand on Cyclonus' disturbingly warm panel.

And Tailgate was looking at him in a way that was utterly unlike anything he'd seen before.

 _This,_ Cyclonus realized, _is a terrible idea_.

He rationalized it that maybe it would shut Tailgate up, but as he slowly retracted his panel, as Tailgate's fingers brushed his slowly pressurizing spike, he knew damn well that it was more than that. More than the fact that Tailgate was still clearly charged and _needed_ the energy to break, even as clearly exhausted as he was, and that he didn't need the systems damage of a suppressed overload and that it'd be better for it to just disperse-

_Like hell._

"Hold still," Cyclonus grunted, altering his grip. One hand on either of Tailgate's legs, one of them being raised to his chest as he lined up his spike-

And then shoved himself in. Tailgate _wailed_ , a sound that sent _something_ down Cyclonus' spinal strut even as something went _up_ front his interface unit, mixing to lead him to groan, deeply. Tailgate's valve had clearly been used for some time, with how stretched it already was, but the size difference between them made it still _grip_ him so very well. And then Tailgate was babbling, begging for him to move, clenching down, and-

Terrible idea or not, Cyclonus couldn't help himself. He began a rough, brutal pace, grunting with each thrust. Under him, Tailgate all but _sobbed_ his pleasure, exhaustedly trying to move with Cyclonus until a snarl of " _I said hold still_!" left him lying back, limp. And sure enough, it didn't take long for him to overload, valve spasming-

But even with how long it'd been for Cyclonus to have one of his own, he wasn't done yet. He clenched his jaw, continuing to move himself in and out, the mass of lubricant making the slide smooth and easy. Some of it was splashing on his legs but he didn't care, he'd find something to clean it off (or not; it was no one's damn business who he fragged), all that mattered right now was Tailgate's welcoming valve and his weak but pleading cries. 

_Slag_ , it must have been a long time, because having Tailgate so openly wanton and _needy_ was making his systems _burn_. He was practically slamming himself in, now, Tailgate emitting static at each thrust, and Cyclonus was trying to hold his overload back because it felt too _good_ right now and he wanted to _savor_ it because who knew when the next time would be but when Tailgate shuddered under him, crying out his name, and the valve clenched _down_.

Cyclonus _snarled_ in pleasure of his own, hunching down as overload crashed over him. Hard and hot, it seemed as though the valve was _milking_ him, prolonging the overload and leaving him gasping over a Tailgate who was - finally - silent.

...had he fallen offline? As the overload faded, Cyclonus blinked his optics once before focusing them down on the still form, and...if he wasn't offline, he was close to it.

He couldn't help but smirk at that, if only a little. Sure, maybe the _thing_ had done most of the work, but...he was allowed to feel a bit of satisfaction. It had been a very, very long time since he'd fragged anyone offline, and frankly, Tailgate hadn't been half...

...

Maybe he shouldn't continue that thought. Shaking his head at himself, Cyclonus began to pull out, reaching down to close Tailgate's panel before noticing something.

He couldn't move his hand.

Looking up, he realized that there was a green tendril binding it to Tailgate's leg.

And before he could move his other hand, there was a tug on that one, too, whipping it back-

_Scrap._

It'd be impossible to fight still... _in_...Tailgate. Cyclonus jerked his hips back, freeing himself, even as another tendril-tentacle- _whatever_ whipped around his midsection. And maybe he only had one wrist halfway usable, but he damn well _tried_ \- twisting his arm, ignoring the pain, trying to slash at the piece binding him.  
"What in _pit_ -!"

He'd _killed_ the thing! Gotten himself half-coated in its fluids to prove it! Cyclonus turned his head, catching sight of the corpse, but-

Apparently it wasn't as much a corpse as he thought. Cyclonus _growled_ , engine echoing the sound, and kicked his thrusters on to throw him away from it. Still bound to Tailgate, he managed a twisted flip...

...but where the exhaust of his thrusters had hit the tendril binding him, they burnt right through. Immediately the other ones loosened, pulling back, recoiling in obvious pain. And Cyclonus managed to land with minimal awkwardness, crouched behind Tailgate, still wary as what tentacles were left writhed on the ground. Considering that they'd already recovered from one attack, he wasn't going to assume they were done, _here_...

It occurred to him that he was using Tailgate as a barrier. He decided not to care, only watching as they twisted and turned on the ground and...

...oh. _That_ was what had happened, he realized, noting that there weren't...many...loose pieces anymore. The few that were left were creeping towards each other, _merging_ , all of them slowly growing back together except for a charred black piece, right over here.

He assumed that was the one that his thrusters had hit. Well, at least he knew he could kill it with fire. Scowl etched on his face, he stood up to half creep, half stalk his way over- may as well finish it off, Cyclonus decided, half-raising a leg when he was close enough and preparing to scorch it from the planet...

...before pausing.

There was a piece wrapping around his ankle again - albeit, the ankle on the ground. It wouldn't have really bothered him if not for the fact that it'd done so so _quickly_ , and rather than try to pull or trip him like any sort of sentient _should_ to defend itself, it was...pressing. In, past the armor, specifically up the thruster itself, as if seeking the lingering warmth and abruptly it brushed against something that sent a _twitch_ up his entire leg.

He really needed to burn this thing. Now. Kill it.

But he didn't.

Instead he watched, balancing on one leg, as another thin one curled around his other, continuing up, up, to where transfluid stained his inner thighs. It all but _rolled_ itself in it before moving a bit more up and-

This was, without a doubt, one of the strangest forms of life he'd _ever_ discovered. Because it was either blind to the fact that he was a threat to it, or it was so single-minded on its intent to do _whatever_ it was it thought it was doing that it didn't mind just pressing in to his valve without any sort of hesitation and just _writhe_ in there. Cyclonus had to lower his other foot, hunching over, gasping aloud at the long-ignored nodes and sensors within there lit up at the attention, and already, he could see another tendril winding up and pushing itself in, right alongside its brethren-

Oh, _hell_. That felt almost as amazing as when he'd been inside Tailgate. If _that_ was what had crippled him for so long, maybe Cyclonus could forgive him slightly for not escaping. _Slightly._

Still, this was...unacceptable. The rolling in his valve may have felt _exquisite_ , but he wasn't here for a _frag_. Growing, he raised his claws again, preparing to slice them out of him-

-and the tentacles pulled back, retreating down, seemingly _aware_ of his change of mind. And Cyclonus...paused, looking from the two tentacles to the mass, then back down to the one around his ankle that had started pulling away, and after a long moment...lowered his claws.

They got back to work with a vigor that had him grunting, taking a step back to keep his balance. All right, maybe it had a sense of self-preservation, and with how...how this felt, maybe, _maybe_ he could let it...

 _One,_ he told himself. Just one. Hesitantly, optics never leaving the main body, he began to seat himself on the ground, ever wary and suspicious that this thing would turn on him, but with his thrusters pointed at it, all that'd result would be a scorched mass. Nothing to worry about, right?

Right?

Maybe just to _grunt_ about as the two within him twisted, he could _feel_ them weaving themselves together, now thrusting in and out rather than just rubbing within. The last one who had his valve was Galvatron, and with the way the mech had gone _insane_ , maybe that was a memory best left buried...

Suddenly impatient, he reached for the one curled around his ankle. It twitched, trembling as he grabbed it as if fearful of being torn apart, but doing so was the opposite from what was on Cyclonus' mind. Instead he pulled, getting enough slack on it so that he could press it to his valve, demand clear; the tentacle immediately caught the idea, worming its way in with a speed and intensity that had Cyclonus throwing his helm back and _shuddering_.

The three of them were maybe as thick as his finger, individually, but with two twisted together and a third simply rubbing against whatever it could - the mixture of sensations were unlike anything he'd felt before. Cyclonus leaned back on his other hand, claws digging in to the ground as he gasped for breath, cooling systems unable to fully compensate for the heat, and suddenly - suddenly...

It was with a muffled cry that he overloaded, adding more of his own scent to the air. And it wasn't just a short one - the tentacles in him kept moving, twisting, thrusting, drawing it out of him as long as they could before he finally had to raise a hand to grab them to get them to _stop_.

They did so with minimal protest. At least, the ones thrusting in to him did. The last only slowed down, still massaging the inside of his valve, still sending prickles of pleasure through him, still keeping just the last of his charge, there...

For the briefest of moments, Cyclonus considered trying to bring it back with them for the science crew. It could be _entertaining,_ if nothing else, and maybe they could figure out why it had such a fixation with a valve.

The thought fled when he realized that there was another one, thicker, snaking its way forwards. Cyclonus stared at it, quickly realizing that there was no way in _hell_ it'd fit in him, not without the other ones out, but oddly enough...

Cyclonus pulled out the smaller three, making room for the newcomer, and grunted when it took that as an invitation to simply push right in without any sort of warning. And when it flexed inside of him, he decided that maybe, _maybe_ another overload wasn't out of the question, not when it was clear that he could handle this, unlike _some_ mechs, and his decision only confirmed itself when the three tentacles in hand began to nose at his spike.

 _That_ explained why Tailgate's had been out. Explained very well, because _slag_ , the three promptly wrapping around his spike and squeezing and stroking in compliment with the thick shaft moving in and out of him...

Cyclonus leaned back on _both_ hands, now, suddenly very, _very_ glad that they weren't expected back for at least a little while longer. Maybe it'd give him enough time to get tired of this, but for the moment he could simply allow this - _thing_ \- to pay its full attention to him.


End file.
